Robbie Swinnerton serves up morsels from the foodiest city on the planet

Italian

02/19/2012

L'Antica Pizzeria da Michele only opened at the end of January, but the Harley riders have already discovered it.

From the outside it looks a bit big and impersonal — not the compact, intimate setting of the original in Naples. But this is all that counts: the handsome blue-tiled wood-fired oven.

Inside it's bright and spacious, white tiles on the wall, retro lampshades up above, tables packed in close together.

Busy all the time, even midway through a Saturday afternoon...

The menu is short and to the point...

To start: an order of the zeppoline di alghe, pizza dough mixed with ao-nori seaweed and deep-fried in puffy one-bite balls. That's one I never saw on the menu in the old city of Napoli. No complaints, though: it's good. And the house wine, a Nero d'Avola, ain't too bad either.

But tradition rules when it comes to the pizzas: only the two official kinds are offered, Margherita and marinara, each available in two sizes — and just exactly the same dimensions as you'd get at the original da M in Naples. This was the Margherita, in the normale size.

Yes, excellent. The flour, the tomato puree, the mozzarella, everything is imported fresh (virtually daily I was told) from Naples. So good it's worth a close-up...

There's nothing fancy here. It's certainly not a place to linger, and really there's no reason to. Having eaten your pizza — and they have mandatory "one pie per person" policy — you reqlinquish your table for the people waiting in line outside. Bottom line: it's fast food, but done at a comfortable, friendly Napoli pace.

This is just the first branch (anywhere in the world) of the venerable da Michele. But judging from the reception it's getting in Ebisu (and the word I got from Maurizio, the manager), it won't be the last. Expect to see plenty more branches of da M around town before too long.

02/17/2012

01/28/2012

Arriving at code kurkku in the evening, through the cluster of converted freight containers that constitute Yoyogi Village, is pretty memorable, with that living wall of vegetation glowing through the massive picture window.

It's very easy on the eye in the daytime too...

The lobby leads past the gleaming open kitchen, with the chefs in their well-worn white baseball caps...

The dining room has a nice simple spacious feel, the height of the ceiling moderated by the random clusters of lights hanging overhead.

As I wrote in my Japan Times column last week, we had the upper of the two set lunch menus (¥5,000), which started with this excellent "cigar" of anago wrapped in filo pastry and deep-fried till crisp. This was draped over a fragrant asari-jiru, a clear broth derived from clams, containing plenty of mitsuba herb and a soft, freshly poached egg prepared in onsen tamago style. That's sansho scattered around the rim of the bowl, lending its distinctive aromatic presence without dominating the flavors in the mouth.

The antipasto was buri yellowtail, the slices lightly seared in tataki style, just enough to whiten their exterior but still sashimi-rare inside. These were paired with thin slices of apple and a small mound of mustard leaf salad topped with a white foam (also with a faint apple perfume), and served on a delectable sauce of grated raw apple mixed with daikon oroshi (from tangy karami-daikon), further spiced up with red peppercorns.

Spaghettini tossed with spring nanohana greens and plump, pink ama-ebi shrimps so lightly cooked they were almost raw, it was scattered with bright yellow bottarga and just a hint of tōgarashi chili. Bursting with understated flavor, this more than anything else on the menu gives meaning to the term Kyoto-Italian cuisine.

The main course: fricassee of Iwate free-range jidori, rolled and pan-fried, then finally seared in the oven over sumi charcoal to give it a lovely golden skin. Carefully arranged on the plate with a colorful selection of vegetables — potato, button mushrooms, yellow squash, Brussels sprout leaves and scarlet kyō-ninjin carrots — it came with a swoosh of pureed broccoli and a creamy vegetable-based sauce that was remarkably rich and satisfying for something containing no butter or dairy.

The verdict: excellent. and a beautiful example of the evolving genre that has come to be called Kyoto-Italian. Just as we had expected, given the involvement (as executive chef) of Yasuhiro Sasajima of Il Ghiottone fame. Not quite up there on the same level as at his main Kyoto restaurant, but certainly as fine and inventive (and beautiful) as when we ate at Il Ghiottone Cucineria, Sasajima's more casual second restaurant.

OK, the view from the dining room is not as spectacular — Cucineria sits on the bank of the Kamogawa river in Kyoto. But screen out the looming Docomo high-rise and that exotic garden is still quite something for Tokyo.

08/02/2011

At this time of year we don't need too much of an excuse for a visit to the Isshiki area of Hayama. After all it has one of the nicest beaches on that whole stretch of coast. But on this occasion we left our bathing gear at home: we were off for lunch at Il Rifugio.

It's a beautiful tranquil setting: a Taisho-era traditional wooden house set in a carefully manicured garden.

We'd booked a table on the verandah, where we could watch the big black butterflies and fat bottle-blue dragonflies flitting through the trees.

Our antipasti: a rich creamy corn potage with a very faint hint of wasabi; home-produced ham made from local Hayama-ton pork; and nama-shirasu (fresh whitebait, a specialty on this coast) in garlic-rich oil, served with crisp Sardinian pane carasau.

Our primi: bavettine witha rich red sauce of local watari-gani crab. This was great. Not just because the tomatoes were fresh — and so was the crab. Just look at the volume. This was a serious serving of pasta, not the anemic little mounds you get at too many Italian restaurants in Tokyo. Plus they give you the tongs you need to extract all the crab meat from the carapace and pincers. They also provide wet towels (unscented — extra bonus points) inviting you to pick up those chunks of crab, to suck and dig in, and lick your fingers. Outstanding and well worth the ¥300 supplement.

Less brilliant was the black sesame-encrusted foccacia that came with the pasta — as if we needed even more starch at this point in the meal.

For our main dish we chose the fritti of aka-ashi ebi prawns and aka-ika squid — like all the seafood, it's fresh from the fishing port at Sajima, just down the coast — and zucchini. Nice crispy batter, not too oily and nothing at all like tempura — although the salt was sprinkled on a bit too heavily (for my liking, though a Sardinian might approve). But the Sardinian rosé (Serralori) made an excellent counterfoil, with its slightly tannic-medicinal final notes.

To close, an intense orange-infused creme brulée. The upper surface was just the way I like it, only lightly browned and still moist — much preferable to the usual blow-torch crisped glaze.

Il Rifugio has been open almost exactly a year now — as we were reminded by a commemorative vine placed prominently by the entrance...

It's a lovely place, once associated with the imperial family — whose summer besso villa is just down the road — and very nicely converted to accommodate tables and chairs (and shoes)...

And they're lovely people, chef Watanabe and his lady, very welcoming and friendly. He was happy to chat about his time in Sardinia and how he took the name Il Rifugio from the restaurant where he lived and worked during his time there.